


Garnet Necklace

by fanaticfanfictionwriter



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I will fill this ship tag with my love for them, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Romance, and aglovale is subtle in his meddling of percival's love life, djeeta is 19ish here, lamorak makes up for long lost sibling teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanaticfanfictionwriter/pseuds/fanaticfanfictionwriter
Summary: When Percival first sees her, clad in her new black and red dress, his first thought is that she looks good in red.





	Garnet Necklace

**Author's Note:**

> this fic all started because I was looking through Percival's base artwork and noticed that in his event SR he was wearing a necklace and that got the gears in my head turning, so this is the result.

When Percival first sees her, clad in her new black and red dress, his first thought is that she looks good in red. Granted there’s more black than red, but what little red there is draws his attention and redirects his train of thoughts from the monsters in front of them.

His second thought is perhaps he shouldn’t be ogling his vassal—and her exposed lower back, which makes him question the practicality of it—in such a way on the battlefield with the threat of monsters still looming over them.

"Vassals, stay behind me!" Percival stands firmly in front of the group, shielding them from any sudden attacks. His sword is drawn and hand ready to graze the blade with his magic.

It was a simple monster clearing mission and seeing as it was such, Djeeta figured that it wouldn't need more than her, Percival, Vyrn and Lyria to get the job done. The group was on their way out of the forest to report back to the mayor's office, who issued the task, when they were sideswiped by a random pack of wolves.

"Those guys don't stand a chance against us!" The tiny red dragon brags, despite his protected position behind Percival and Djeeta. This seems to only anger the beasts and they inch closer as they prepare to strike.

Before one of the wolves can land an attack on Percival, he parries the assault, knocking it back. With the monster unconscious, its fellow monster brethren gather around the group to avenge their friend. As the wolves close in on them, the Captain moves to shield Lyria and Vyrn from a stray wolf, seemingly the runt of the litter, trying to sneak up behind from their blind spot.

Seeing that Djeeta has their friends guarded, the Lord of Flames quickly summons his fire magic to try and draw some distance between him and the enemies.

"Djeeta!"

The flame of his sword extinguishes as Percival turns his head at the sound of Lyria's shriek to see the group pushed back and the Captain holding onto her arm. Seeing the trickle of blood, he puts two and two together.

"And here I was going easy on you," Percival turns back around and locks eyes with the alpha of the pack, tightening his grip on his sword. "It seems I no longer need to hold back."

He slides his hand along his sword prepping it to bear his flames when Djeeta runs up from behind him to launch an assault at the wolves, releasing her charge attack.

"Wha—" He looks behind him and sees the wolf, who had the Captain cornered just a minute ago, scamper off into the forest with a slight limp.

"I'll back you up!" Lyria trails behind and stops beside Percival. The gem on her dress glows brightly calling forth the primal beast known as Freyr, who bathes the Captain in light.

The Lord of Flames is left spellbound as the Captain unleashes continuous swipe after continuous swipe, her dress swishing with each strike and the glitter at the hems reflecting the light bestowed from Freyr's blessing. By the time he's broken from his trance, the Captain has emerged victorious from the fight.

Later when they return to the ship, and Djeeta is patched up, he asks if she’s been experimenting with charm magic lately or if she’s picked up a weapon embedded with it. She answers with a tilt of her head in confusion at his question, unaware of any weapon with that sort of power.

“Oh, but if you come across any weapons like that let me know! I’d love to get my hands on one!”. Djeeta smiles before heading off to her room to rest and although it’s only a small smile, it still manages to make Percival’s heart skip a beat.

* * * * * *

Percival makes his way to the Captain’s cabin, letter in hand, to request time off. It’s all a matter of formality though, anyone from the crew is free to come and go as they please so long as they schedule it with the Captain first. In order to maintain daily life on the Grandcypher, everyone takes turns using their talents to lend a hand with chores and the like.

A desire to make scheduling easier on his vassal’s already overwhelming workload, Percival knocks on the door to his captain’s quarters ready to help her sort out this month’s timetable and incredibly excited to share the news of his brother Lamorak’s return to Wales. Despite being past bedtime for the both of them, he wanted her to be the first to know right away.

“Percival!” Lyria opens the door and greets Percival with her usual cheery smile. She lets him in before returning to her spot on Djeeta’s bed next to her journal and Vyrn who is happily snacking on an apple.

Hunched over her desk, Djeeta finishes scribbling something down in her planner. Having had no time to change from an earlier separate mission, she’s still in her Necromancer costume, the paw-shaped gloves gone and the hood pulled down.

“Captain, I’m going to need the next few days off.”

“Okay sure," Djeeta begins to flip through her planner. "One moment please.” She finds the page for the upcoming week and marks the next four days off for him. Now with Percival gone for a while, the Captain has to figure out who will take his place in the ship’s daily chores. “I wonder if I should have Anthuria take over boiler room duties...” she wonders aloud, clicking her pen in thought.

Percival steps behind her desk and leans over her shoulder to get a look at the schedule she’s written out. “Hmm, I see you want to utilize the crew’s fire magic users.” Written down is a potential list of members to be put in charge of keeping the ship warm with their magic. One hand leaning on the table and the other resting under his chin, he too ponders a solution to her problem. “What about the younger sister of that pair of goblin hunters that joined recently?”

“You mean Teena?” Lyria asks, peeking up from doodling in her journal.

“Yes," Percival looks up from the timetable to answer her question. "Didn’t you mention that she wanted to learn more advanced magic?”

“Yeah, but what of it?”

As if struck by lightning, Djeeta jumps up out of her chair with her fists clenched triumphantly. “Oh I get it! If we have her tend to boiler room duties, she can better control her fire magic!”

“That’s right. The key to mastering any type of magic is being able to control it, especially in such a specific manner. I believe it would be a great source of training for her.” Percival smirks at the Captain’s ability to piece together his little hint from earlier; as expected from one of his most trusted vassals.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Lyria claps her hands together, happy that her friend would be one step closer to her goal of becoming a great fire mage like her mother.

Djeeta writes Teena down into the timetable and closes her planner. In the morning she’ll head down to the dining hall and write the schedule on the giant whiteboard for everyone to see.

“Thanks for the help," Djeeta says as she turns towards him, uttering a tiny, sheepish laugh. "Even though it's getting late and you probably need to get ready for your trip back home.” Pausing for a split second, she tilts her head in confusion before she continues. “Speaking of which, what did you need time off for?”

“I believe I mentioned before that I had an older brother who was busy traveling. He’s sent word back to Wales that he’ll be stopping by for a while and I wish to catch up with him.”

“Oh that sounds nice!” Djeeta smiles. She's heard so many stories about this mysterious second brother and just how close he and Percival were, it was a relief to hear that Percival would finally be able to see him again after so long.

“It is. Knowing my eldest brother, he’s likely planned a party to welcome him home.”

“A party?!” Lyria jumps up from her spot on Djeeta’s bed and rushes towards Percival’s side, face beaming with a smile. “That sounds like so much fun! Please tell us all about it once you return!”

“It’s just a party, surely the ones here on the Grandcypher are just as good.”

“I bet it’s going to be really lively!” Lyria presses her hands against her cheeks in awe, ignoring the Lord of Flames’s last statement.

“And the foods gotta be real lavish too!” Vyrn says as he finishes the last bite of his apple. “Just imagine all the yummy food that’ll be there!”

Lyria dances around the room just thinking of all the different types of food that will grace the tables that line the walls of the Wales castle's dance hall.

“Would you all like to accompany me?” It had been a while since they've all visited Wales together, Aglovale would be happy to see Percival's friends again.

“Yes please!” Lyria answers happily without much thought. She quickly picks up Vyrn, who squirms at being squeezed to her chest so tightly, and makes her way to Katalina’s room to tell her the good news.

“Are you sure it’s okay to go with you?” Shifting nervously, Djeeta awkwardly looks away and scratches her chin. “I mean, it’s a family gathering right? Wouldn’t we be in the way?”

Percival's surprised face relaxes into a small smile as he places a hand on Djeeta’s head, ruffling her hair in affection. “Worry not, consider it my way of saying thanks for all your hard work.”

“We’ll need to get there early so be sure to get plenty of sleep.” Percival heads towards the door and wishes her goodnight before switching off the nearby lamp burner. Closing the door behind him, the darkness helps mask the blush decorating Djeeta's face.

* * * * * *

“One, two, three. One, two, three.” A man with brunette hair tied into a ponytail claps his hands with each count. Dressed in a garment similar to Percival’s, although green, he is the wandering mage that Aglovale and Percival have been waiting for—Lamorak. At this moment he is neither brother nor mage, but an impromptu dance instructor tasked with helping his younger brother’s friends learn the basics.

“Oi, keep your eyes on me not your feet.” Percival's misdirected annoyance at the situation at hand—calling for their bodies to be closer than usual which in turn causes his heart to beat faster than it normally does—makes his last statement sound harsher than he intends. They have been in numerous battles together before, their backs pressed against the other as they fought off hordes of enemies, so physical contact shouldn't be causing his heart to race like this; it's invoking some feelings he can’t quite put his finger on.

Speaking of fingers, since when were hers so...slender? Now that he had a closer look, compared to his fingers hers were so small. He struggles to fight off the urge to lay his fingers against hers to compare their difference in size. These thin fingers, the very same that coil around the handle of countless dangerous weapons, now rest daintily—one on his shoulder, the other in the palm of his hand—as he attempts to lead her in their dance.

He tries to remain focused on his dancing, letting out a sigh to relieve the tension building up in his body.

Djeeta looks up from the ground—was that an exasperated sigh?—and blushes from embarrassment, half from her lack of formal dancing skills and half from being so close to him. The space between them disappearing more and more as pulling her closer to him only increases her heartbeat, bringing out feelings she thought she'd long since managed to conceal. It had first started out as a simple crush that quickly turned into something deeper, something she had never experienced before. She didn't know if it was love, but she did know is that if she was granted one wish in this life, it would be to see his dreams come true. She knew he'd be a wonderful king—a kind, righteous ruler with opening arms who'd protect the weak. If she could see that happen—and maybe if she was allowing herself to be selfish, it could be by his side—then that would make her happier than any rare treasure Bahamut could drop.

Now that she thought about it, when had she begun to feel this way about him? Was it when he saved those coastal animals despite the danger it posed to him—and how valiant he looked? Was it when he praised her for a job well done after their first mission together—and how she swore her heart was beating faster than it ever had in battle? Or could it have been when—

No, it had to be before any of that.

It had to be the moment he gave the frail mother and her two children some of his food when they first met. Despite coming across harsh, she could see the underlying kindness in his actions in that small exchange and the others that followed during that night.

At this point labeling her feelings as a mere crush would be an understatement at best and an insult at worse. Though she was still young, almost a decade younger than the target of her affections, she was sure what she felt for him was more than that of vassal for her lord.

“S...Sorry...” Djeeta sheepishly apologies. The only sort of formal dancing Djeeta has experience in is that of her days back on Zinkenstill when the villagers held a goodbye party for her father; that night, the last she would see of him, where she had danced on top of her father’s feet are her only source of experience to draw from.

“It’s okay, you can do it!” On the other side of the dance hall, Lyria cheers Djeeta on with Vryn by her side. She too is practicing her dancing skills, although with a flying lizard as a partner it’s not going well for her either, so she hopes to learn by watching the couple.

“Percy, don’t scold a lady when you’re the one who’s in charge of leading.” Pointing his index finger in the air, Lamorak continues matter-of-factly. “If she has to watch her footwork it means you don’t inspire enough confidence in your leading.”

If Percival couldn’t lead his partner in dancing then there was little hope for him to lead his future country.

Taking his inability to lead a little too seriously, he tightens his grip on Djeeta’s hand and starts from the top.

* * * * * *

The party about to start, Percival, with his hair slicked back and dressed in his customary formal attire—consisting of a black shirt underneath a long, single-button red waistcoat and breastplate borrowed from his armor, covered by a creme cape draped over his shoulders—decides to check on his vassals to make sure they are ready. He politely knocks, giving Lyria and Djeeta the opportunity to finish dressing before he enters the room.

“Come in!” Lyria’s muffled voice calls out.

He turns the knob to the guest room and sees Djeeta pinning a gold butterfly-shaped hairpin on the side of Lyria’s hair. Both girls are dressed and seated in front of a vanity as they finish any last minute touch-ups with the help of one of the female castle servants. Thankfully Korwa had enough time to put together a light blue dress for Lyria to wear for the evening. Djeeta had settled on wearing her Glorybringer dress, leaving the shoulder armor back on the ship, with the signature white flower pinning a small section of her hair back.

Percival gives her one final look over, from head to toe, and although she looks polished in her outfit, he still feels like something is missing. Djeeta squirms under his gaze unsure if she’s picked the right outfit. This was the first big party she’s ever attended, let alone been invited to, and wasn’t sure what kind of dress code she was supposed to follow.

Before she can voice her anxiety, he’s already standing behind her and disassembling her necklet to replace it with his own piece of jewelry. Taking the clasps from his necklace apart, he lifts it over Djeeta’s head and secures it around her neck with a quick snap of the fastener.

The moment his fingers leave the back of her neck, Djeeta touches the small gem hanging off the end of the pendant. She immediately glances at her reflection in the vanity mirror facing her. Soon a light blush spreads across her cheeks and she finds it hard to look Percival's reflection in the eyes.

Percival is too busy staring at how perfect she looks with his family’s heirloom dangling, as small as it is, to notice the avoidance of Djeeta’s stare. He feels a sense of pride fill his chest. He had always respected her sense of justice and the way she strives to save anyone in need, but this new feeling overwhelming him is different. No, not different nor new, but it feels more intense than his usual admiration of her.

 _Admiration_?

He isn’t quite sure if admiration is the right word. Perhaps—

_Love._

Percival gulps.

He loves his brothers, he loves Wales and—if he was in a particularly good mood when you asked him—he loves the people in the order he once served as a young knight.

Could it be that this feeling is also—

He reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Djeeta's ear. The physical contact causes her to jump and turn around to face him, her hand reaching for the spot where his was moments ago. Despite it being only seconds ago she can still feel the heat left by his touch.

"Do....Do I look nice...?" Her eyes avoid his, falling to the floor to await his answer.

Now with the question hanging in the air, he notices just how pretty she looks.

_No._

She had always been pretty—beautiful if he was being honest—from her physical attributes to the qualities that he highly respected all of that made her beautiful to him, but tonight it was more obvious than ever.

Before he could give her an answer, a knock on the door breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Percy, you in there? Get out here so we can greet our guests!” Lamorak’s loud voice shatters the soft atmosphere building up between Djeeta and Percival, all eyes darting towards the door. Suddenly he is aware of the other guests in the room and excuses himself before anyone can notice his cheeks are dusted red—embarrassment from the realization that he and Djeeta were lost in their own world. What would have happened if Lamorak didn't interrupt them? What would he have answered with? It was obvious she was pretty—at least he thought so—but did she want to hear him say it?

The door opens wide enough to fit the heads of Lamorak, dressed in similar attire to his younger brother, and Vyrn, who sports a fancy black bow around his neck, both peering in to sneak a peek at Lyria’s and Djeeta’s outfits. Lamorak was wondering what took them so long and was able to convince Vyrn to check up on the girls to see what exactly was holding them up.

"Oh nice!" Lamorak's eyes light up seeing the guests ready to get to the dance floor.

Lamorak pulls his head out of the doorway, followed by Vyrn, and attempts to enter the room, but before he can he's quickly pulled away by Percival as the redhead makes his way out of the room.

* * * * * *

It doesn’t take long after his vassals enter the ballroom for Percival to thank the Astrals above that he gave Djeeta his mother’s necklace.

Many eyes dart towards the blonde captain as she comes into full view—the gold trim that accents the edge of her dress glitter in the light—including those from the eligible noblemen. Unaware of their attention drawn to her, she is happily engaging with Vyrn and Lyria, the latter who has immediately found the food.

He frowns into his champagne glass. As one of the hosts of this party, it’d be rude of him to hog one of his guests to himself for the entire evening—especially as her dance partner. So he now rests his hopes on the piece of jewelry to act as a sort of deterrent.

Only a few of the male guests have the courage to approach Djeeta, let alone to ask her for a dance, and it’s all due to the red jewel hanging from her neck. Any of Wales’ citizens could tell with a glance that the jewelry in question belongs to the late Herzeloyde and seeing it gracing anyone else's neck other than the Wales brothers means only one thing. Out of fear of potentially dancing with who they assume to be the eldest Wales brother’s unannounced fiancée, they stick to pursuing the other female guests without a date.

Once he realizes that the necklace has intimidated potential dance partners, Percival feels a sense of relief wash over him. As strange and monopolizing as it sounds, he hopes to use the accessory as a sort of collar, though perhaps calling it a collar would be too perverse. If he had to compare it to anything else, then maybe a ring—a ring that lets everyone know she’s spoken for.

Percival can feel the heat rise to his cheeks at the thought but he tells himself it’s the alcohol talking. He’s sure if Lamorak were privy to said thoughts right now, he’d accuse his younger brother of developing “dark tastes” while he was away but he’s currently too busy trying to write off his thoughts that he doesn’t notice said person sneak up beside him.

“You aren’t going to dance with little ol' Djeeta?”

Percival grimaces at hearing his brother call her by name. He shouldn’t be surprised that his older brother wasn’t one for propriety or decorum, but hearing him refer to her as though they were close was rubbing him the wrong way.

“It would be impolite to hog a guest of mine from the others,” Percival says with a scowl. “Also please refrain from using that nickname when referring to my—”

“Yes, yes, your precious ‘vassal’.” Lamorak dismisses the look of annoyance etched onto Percival’s face with a wave of his hand. “If you’re not going to then someone else might.”

The second Lamorak’s words reach his ears, Percival’s eyes scan the room for any guests who might be making a move. Seeing his younger brother take the bait hook, line, and sinker, Lamorak sets his glass down on a nearby table and slowly jogs over to Percival’s vassals.

“Like me!”

However, before Lamorak can make more than two steps, Aglovale beats him to Djeeta's side.

Along with the guests lingering nearby, both brothers are surprised to see their older brother engaging in the social aspect of dancing. Despite being not much of a social butterfly, Aglovale knew the importance of forming and maintaining social connections at parties such as these; rarely would he leave his throne unless there was an important guest who warranted his attention.

“Captain, would you care for a dance?” Aglovale offers both a hand and a gentle smile to Djeeta.

“Oh, uh...sure.” Djeeta hesitantly accepts his invite and is gently led away from her friends onto the dance floor.

Reaching their destination, Aglovale turns toward Djeeta to place one of her hands on his shoulder and the other face down on the palm of his hand. The orchestra rented for the night, seeing the Lord of Frost gracing the dance floor with a partner, interrupts their current upbeat song with a slow melody perfectly crafted for a waltz. Aglovale moves in time with the relaxed music as he elegantly leads the captain in a simple box step.

The surrounding guests try to pretend to focus on their own dancing, however their constant head turning gives them away. Djeeta, on the other hand, is too busy trying to avoid accidentally stepping on Aglovale’s feet to notice.

“How are you enjoying the party so far?”

Djeeta looks up from staring at her footwork and she gives him a smile.

“I’m having fun. I’ve never been to a party as fancy as this so thanks for letting Lyria, Vyrn and I come last minute.”

Aglovale’s eyes fall to the red gem hanging off the necklace of the woman before him and smiles softly. “You’re very welcome.”

He had no idea the relationship between Percival and Djeeta was progressing this quickly, especially without need for his interference. According to his correspondence with Siegfried, whom he initially reached out to in order to get more juicy details on his youngest brother’s daily life, Percival was still oblivious to his own feelings in regards to the Captain. He had expected it would take a few more years to get Percival to notice said feelings, but him gifting his treasured necklace to the Captain was a sure sign of their relationship progressing.

“Although it seems I should be the one thanking you.” Djeeta tilts her head at his words. Did she do something worthy of thanks? She tries racking her brain for anything that she’s done recently to help Aglovale but nothing comes to mind. Was he thanking her for the incident involving the Otherworld?

Aglovale senses his dance partner’s confusion and changes the topic of conversation, “Percival was really looking forward to tonight.”

“Oh definitely!” Djeeta perks up and beams with a smile. “It must’ve been years since he’s seen Lamorak.” Clearly not on the same page, Aglovale bursts out in laughter and catches the attention of nearby dancing couples who slow their dancing to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Ahaha, true. But I believe that there’s another reason.”

“ _‘Another reason’_?” Of all the times for Aglovale to be this chatty, he just had to drop these perplexing statements.

“Forgive me, but I suspect that Percival would like to be the one to tell you.”

Before Djeeta can get Aglovale to explain his cryptic words, he gives a dignified bow as the soft melody playing in the background ends and the guests clap.

Percival seizes this chance to jaunt over to the Captain’s side before any other guest can steal her away for a dance. His confidence is shaken upon seeing and hearing the laughter coming from the two during their dance. Watching her dance with Aglovale has left him feeling conflicted and with a frown as he approaches Djeeta.

Had it been Lancelot or Vane he would have easily written it off as useless idle chatter to pass the time dancing. But with this being his older brother, whom he’s adored ever since he could remember, he feels a mixture of jealousy and guilt.

_Was it guilt at feeling jealous?_

His frown is quickly replaced with a tiny smile when she turns around and walks into him. Seeing her walk face first into his chest almost makes him laugh but taking his surroundings into account he decides against it.

“S...Sorry about that,” Djeeta fusses with her hair, hoping her bangs didn't get ruined, and looks up to see who she’s bumped into. “P...Percival?!”

The man in question bows slightly before outstretching his hand.

“May I have the honor of dancing with you this evening?”

Djeeta blushes, hesitant to accept. Dancing with Percival in private for practice is one thing, it was another to dance with him in front of all these strangers. Despite having just danced with his older brother, she tries to reason away her dancing with Aglovale as not wanting to reject his kind offer and avoid coming off as rude. It wasn't like she was trying to evade physical contact with the object of her affections—physical contact that would surely cause her hands to sweat which would then cause her to be hyper aware of their hands touching, and he would notice for sure, and then because her attention was shifted from their physical contact to her footwork—

“Rest assured,” Sensing her anxiety, Percival stands up straight and with a comforting smile gently takes her hand into his. “You’ll be alright with me as your dance partner. After all, there’s no one who can entertain you better than I can.”

Djeeta, rendered in a daze by his words, nods as he pulls her in closer for their dance.

Meanwhile, Aglovale makes his way over to Lamorak who has gone back to nursing his boredom with his glass of champagne. He was hoping to ruffle Percival’s feathers just a little to make up for time lost not being able to tease him and now his source of entertainment was ripped away from him.

A castle servant walks by, carrying a tray of champagne glasses, stopping to hand one to His Highness, Aglovale. He walks away as the Wales brothers look on, watching their younger brother enjoy his dance with his guest.

“I know you mean well but try not to tease Percival too much. Aglovale speaks up after a long, comfortable silence. "That goes for his vassal as well.” He smiles at the sight of Percival and Djeeta animatedly talking during their dance—Djeeta leading the conversation while Percival, gaze filled with what seems like fondness, looks on with a small smile—surely reminiscing of past adventures together. It’s been so long since he’s seen his brother so happy and relaxed.

“Heh, says the one who practically forced him to be proactive.” Lamorak chuckles, taking a sip of champagne. He could see through his older brother’s scheme from a mile away. The reclusive Aglovale who very rarely engages with his party guests unless it benefits his beautiful Wales? He was surprised that their younger brother didn’t catch on with how brazen he was when he strode up to the captain’s side in front of everyone; his dance with Percival’s vassal was nothing more than a means to an end for him. But what exact end was he hoping for?

“All I did was give a little push.” Aglovale says, as if confirming Lamorak’s suspicions.

“ _‘A little push’_ , huh? Well I was going to do the same.”

“You?” Aglovale snorts, frowning. “Your idea of a ‘push’ is a shove.” Lamorak's spontaneous personality was something that could ruin his plans so he was a dangerous factor he had to try and account for. If left unchecked, who knows what could happen? Worse case scenario, he'd just confuse the Captain into thinking he was into her and Percival, being the kind brother he was and who valued family more than anything, would wander off to who knows where after tearfully wishing them the best. He couldn't have that, especially when it meant Lamorak would be pawned off on to him eventually.

“So? It’d get the point across!”

“Like I said, don’t tease them too much. _Especially_ his captain.” Aglovale says, emphasising the latter part of his statement, hoping Lamorak could take a hint.

“You act like I’ll scare the poor girl away or something!” Lamorak huffs and crosses his arms. Even after years apart his older brother was still a pain to deal with. He had hoped time would mellow him out but he was the same prick as before. “We both have the same goals here you know?”

“While that may be true, teasing her is too much. She’s a nice girl and…,” Aglovale’s voice lowers, taking on a serious tone. “I owe her one.”

“Oho? Do tell,” Lamorak turns to Aglovale, his interest in their conversation peaking. “How does the great Aglovale owe Percival's adorable little captain a favor?”

“I did something...unbefitting of a king,” Aglovale paused, the air becoming tense and the conversation turning serious as he’s forced to recall the time when a demon whispered sweet nothings into his ears. Lamorak is still unaware of his attempt to unleash the beings from the Otherworld so Aglovale keeps the incident as vague as he can. “And in the midst of my madness I tried pulling Percival into my plans.”

Aglovale’s throat begins to parch, emotional from remembering his past shameful actions, and takes a small sip of his drink before continuing.

“Had Percival’s vassals not been there, had the Captain’s words not reached him, he would have surely joined me in my foolish endeavors.” Aglovale stares forlornly into his glass.

He was right; if Percival had never met the Captain or her group of friends, if he had never returned to Feendrache at the behest of his vassals to overcome his struggle with his beliefs after Siegfried’s supposed betrayal, Aglovale is as sure as the sky is blue that Percival would not have wavered as he did and joined him in his venture to unite the skydom under his rule. His head clear and his plans tossed aside, he knows now that is not something he would want his brother to be a part of. His stomach churns as he imagines the pained look that would be plastered on his youngest brother’s face as he would have to cut down army after army in Aglovale’s conquest that would only bring him heartache. That wasn’t a life he wanted for Percival.

“She’s a good influence on him.” Aglovale says as he finishes the rest of his champagne. His eyes follow the pair heading towards their other companions, Lyria and Vyrn, still mingling near the table of food. The youngest Wales brother blushes as Djeeta and Lyria take turns feeding him all sorts of food they’ve never seen before.

“In all the time we spent together growing up, not once did Percival ever talk back to me.” Aglovale says after another several seconds of silence watching the group of friends. “Until recently.” He chuckles at the memory. Although at the time he was filled with a rage he hadn’t felt in years, looking back on it now only made him laugh. To think that one day little Percival, who clung to every word his older brothers uttered, would become so defiant.

Lamorak sees the soft expression on Aglovale's face and pouts, “Fine, I’ll tone it down a little.”

* * * * * *

It’s early the next morning when Percival runs into Djeeta getting ready to head out. With nothing in particular planned he decides to lounge around in his short red robe shirt, his hair pinned up into a ponytail. Djeeta is also dressed down, sporting her usual pink dress, the matching long dark brown sleeve gauntlet that accompanies it left behind. The previous night’s dance party had exhausted her, both mentally and physically, and in her tired state she had forgotten to take off and return the necklace Percival gave her.

Wanting to get a peek at town while stocking up on a few items before they take off on the ship, Djeeta decides it’s best if she can try and sneak out while Vyrn and Lyria are still asleep to avoid the sightseeing tour she knows she’s in for if she brings them along.

Percival offers to escort her, promising to show her the best shops to get her shopping done. Djeeta accepts his proposition and they head out.

Despite getting there early, the market square is busy with customers making their way through the various stalls and storefronts. It seems like Djeeta isn’t the only one with the forethought to try and get some early shopping done.

“It’d be a hassle to get separated in this crowd,” Percival looks around as he mumbles aloud, turning towards Djeeta he raises his voice with an outstretched hand. “Be sure not to let go of my hand while we’re here.”

The young captain blushes, slowly reaching towards his hand.

Her heart beats a mile a minute and the sound around her begins to muffle as soon as she feels the warmth of the Lord of Flames’ hand make contact with hers. She’s pretty sure she’s stopped breathing at this point.

“So what exactly do you need to buy?”

Percival’s question pulls her out of her daze. She reaches into the small satchel hanging on her hips with her free hand and pulls out a folded piece of paper.

“Rackam said we were running low on floor wax and wants to give the ship a nice polish soon.”

Percival scans the crowd looking for a hardware shop but fails to see one around.

“We’ll have to go further into town,” Percival says, overlooking the crowd. He looks back at her and grips her hand with a bit of a smirk. “Remember, don’t let go.”

With a blush and a nod from Djeeta, they set off to find the nearest shop.

Along the way shopkeepers give their morning greetings to the young redhead, noting how long it’s been since they last saw him and upon seeing the young woman by his side—with the necklace given by Percival no less still on her—they give a knowing smile and extend a special greeting to her as well. A few of the older women even stop them, wanting to get a good look at what they expect to be a future addition to the Wales family.

Giving back a greeting of her own, Percival practically glows in satisfaction seeing the townsfolk take to her so quickly. It was to be expected though; anyone by Percival’s side was surely someone worthy of praise and respect.

After the slew of greetings, they finally come across a hardware store. Despite the crowds outside, the number of customers inside the store is relatively small and allows for them to quickly purchase the wax they need.

It’s barely past breakfast by the time they’re ready to head back to the castle. On the way out of the marketplace, Percival spots a shop stand selling fresh strawberries. Djeeta’s eye follows her companion’s gaze and asks to check the stand out.

“Lord Percival, it’s been a while!” the shopkeeper greets the pair. “You're just in luck, our strawberries were picked just this morning. Can I interest you in some?”

Djeeta represses a giggle at seeing the sparkle in her liege's eyes as he scans the cartons of freshly picked fruits, like a kid in a candy store.

“I’ll even throw in an extra carton for your friend here, free of charge.”

Percival tears his eyes away from the fruits. “It would be remiss of me to accept such a gift...”

“Worry not, it’s no problem!” The shopkeeper beams. “Ever since we got that influx of agricultural scientists from Your Highness' reforms, we’ve been able to harvest more in a short amount of time. Think of it as a gift from me.” He places the two cartons in a brown paper bag, folding the top before handing it to Percival.

“W...Well if you insist.”

“Oh I do,” the shopkeeper turns his attention towards Djeeta. “You’ll love our strawberries Miss, best in Wales if I do say so myself!”

* * * * * *

“I know why Lamorak’s here,” Percival states with his arms crossed. “But Brother, shouldn’t you be busy with paperwork?”

Back at the castle, Percival and Djeeta have decided to bake a cake with the strawberries they had bought to compliment their afternoon tea. Somewhere along the way to the kitchen, used mostly by servants, they ran into Percival's older brothers.

“Well, sometimes it's nice to take a break here and there.” Aglovale says to the right of Djeeta, helping her pick the stems off the strawberries. Surprisingly it was him who insisted on joining them in their quest to bake a cake, noting that it had been a while since he had strawberry shortcake and he had the perfect tea to accompany it.

“Yeah, it’s no good to stay idle for too long,” to the left of Djeeta is Lamorak, who turns the kitchen faucet off, finished washing off the rest of the fruit. “Besides how long has it been since us brothers baked a cake together?”

“Too long.” says Aglovale with a small and sad smile.

Standing across the three, in charge of cracking the eggs for the cake batter, Percival sighs. Fine. If it made his older brothers happy, he doesn’t mind. What he does mind however—

“Captain, say ‘ahhh’~!” Lamorak holds up a small strawberry to Djeeta’s mouth. Flustered, she accepts it into her mouth as a smiling Lamorak and fuming Percival looks on.

“Tastes good huh?” Djeeta nods in awe at how juicy and sweet the red fruit was. “Wales has a lot of yummy fruits, but it has the best strawberries!” Lamorak says with pride; despite traveling to various kingdoms and islands along his adventure, he could say with certainty that his homeland grew the best strawberries.

“Captain, shouldn’t you go and see if Lyria and Vryn are up yet?” Nearly breaking an egg with the sheer force of his hand from annoyance, Percival gives a forced smile.

Djeeta turns her attention to Percival, oblivious to his annoyance. “Oh you’re right! They’d love to lend a hand with the cake!” She rushes to remove the apron she borrowed, almost missing the hook on the wall, as she makes her way to the guest bedroom.

“Percy, it isn’t good to monopolize your friends like that.” Lamorak says as soon as Djeeta is out of earshot. Noticing his younger brother still at the mention of ‘friend’, he presses on. “Or is ‘friend’ not strong enough of a word?” The middle child of the Wales brothers cups his chin, feigning a wistful expression.

“Like I said before she’s my important—”

“Yeah your vassal or whatever.” Lamorak sighs. He would have never expected his younger brother to grow up into someone this hard to crack; it was so much easier to get him to spill the beans when they were little. “I’m talking more like, y’know, a closer kind of relationship.”

Curious as to what he means, Percival ceases his egg cracking. “A _‘closer kind of a relationship’_? What do you mean?”

Lamorak leans in and lowers his voice, failing to suppress the sly smile forming on his face. “A ‘friends-with-benefits’ kind of relationship.”

The thought of a more intimate relationship with one of his most trusted vassals causes Percival’s face to heat up. These past couple of days has prompted him to explore his not-so platonic feelings for her and even though he’s had a lot of time to reflect on his feelings, he’s not quite sure as to where their relationship should go. Should he confess his feelings in hope of reciprocation? Does she even share the same feelings that he harbors for her? If they did somehow magically feel the same, just what kind of relationship would they have? All of his limited knowledge of women comes from snippets of conversations he overheard from his fellow knights in the barracks of Feendrache. Would she even be interested in _those_ sorts of things?

Lamorak laughs at the blush that spreads across younger brother’s face. The egg he’s holding in his hand breaks, pieces both small and large dropping into the egg mix. Flustered, he quickly tries to scoop the eggshells out.

At that moment, his vassals enter the kitchen; the scene that greets them confuses them however.

“Is everything okay?” Lyria asked, her hair styled into two messy braids with the help of Djeeta.

“Yeah why’s Sir Burnsalot’s face so red?”

Worried it could be a fever or some other sign of sickness, Djeeta rushes to her liege's side and standing on the tip of her toes, checks his temperature with her hand. However this only causes Percival’s blush to redden and prolongs Lamorak’s laughter.

“You’re really warm, are you feeling okay?” If he wasn’t feeling well earlier and their errand had caused him to worsen, she’d feel incredibly guilty taking away his precious time with his older brothers by making him sick. “Maybe you should get some fresh air to cool down.” Djeeta gently pulls the flustered man towards the door leading out into the hallway to search for a window to open.

Before they leave, Lamorak settles down wiping away the tears of laughter that remain. “Don't worry your little heart Captain, I’m sure he’s feeling okay.”

“Perhaps it’s a feeling only a man in the midst of his youth can experience,” Aglovale cryptly pipes up, setting aside the bowl of strawberries freed of their stems. “Done.”

Djeeta looks confused as Percival nudges her out the door before his brothers can say anything more incriminating.

Lyria and Vyrn look over at the eldest Wales brother’s hardwork and their stomachs growl.

“Oh yeah, we’re baking a cake,” Lamorak hands Lyria a knife and one of the bowls of strawberries. “Can I count on you to help cut the strawberries into quarters?”

“Leave it to me!” Lyria enthusiastically tightens her hold on the utensil and grabs a strawberry to cut. She forms a bridge with her hand and in the arch she slips the knife through to cut the strawberry in half.

While Lyria and Aglovale are on chopping duties, Vyrn and Lamorak ready the ingredients to help marinate the strawberries. When they’re done gathering the measured out cup of sugar and the potato masher, they join the two in cutting some of the fruit.

“You and the Captain seem pretty close,” Lamorak says, trying to break the ice. “Almost like sisters.”

“Do we?” Lyria’s face lights up with a smile and her cheeks flush red. Lyria finishes chopping up a strawberry with a look of fondness as she recalls how they met and all the memories they’ve made since then. Her voice takes on a softer tone as she continues. “She’s super strong and always cheers me up when I’m down. Everyday’s been so much fun ever since we started our journey.”

“It sounds like you really care about her.” Lamorak smiles at her innocent answer; he could feel the love radiating from her words. He finds it quite endearing. “Like you want the best for her.”

“Of course!”

Lamorak nods, glad the conversation is heading in the direction he wants.

“Yup, I bet there are a ton of your crew members who feel the same. Maybe even a few admirers?”

“Well that's a given," Vyrn says with pride from his seat on top of Aglovale's head, the latter who doesn't seem to mind the tiny dragon and continues chopping strawberries. "Of course everyone admires her, there's a reason she's our captain after all!”

This was going to be harder than he thought.

"No I mean, the Captain sounds pretty popular. I bet she has her fair share of love letters and proposals, right?"

"I guess?" Lyria tilts her head trying to recall any instance of either happening. Realizing none come to mind, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I don't think so. At least not any she's told me about…" Lyria hangs her head dejectedly.

"Don't worry too much about it, it can't be helped." Lamorak gives her a smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He could breathe a sigh of relief, the possibility that she wasn't taken was still a reality and Percival still had a chance! Lamorak grabbed a bowl of strawberries and began smashing them for the strawberry filling.

"I don't think she's into that kind of stuff anyway since she always turns Will down every Valentine's day."

"What?!"

As if Vyrn suddenly transformed into an actual dragon, Lyria, Lamorak and Aglovale's heads turn in his direction, eyes wide in shock; Aglovale's sudden movement forcing him to rely on his wings to keep him from falling to the ground.

"W...Well every year Will asks the Captain if she'd marry him, something about making a great pair together or whatever." Sensing the tension in the air, Vyrn tries to reassure them. "I mean if she didn't mention it to Lyria I guess it wasn't a big deal."

This wasn't good, if some random crew member was bold enough to propose to the Captain then who was to say that the next proposal would be turned down? If Lamorak didn't act quickly then Percival's chance…!

"It could be because she already has someone she likes." Aglovale points out, his expression and tone serious. Lamorak inwardly rejoices, maybe not all hope was lost.

"Someone she likes?" Lyria tilts her head confused. Could they mean like, _like_ _like_? Lyria blushes at the realization of what Aglovale meant.

"Yeah, like a significant other. Someone she cares about dearly, someone who has a hold on her heart, that kind of person." Lamorak leans closer to Lyria, hand on her shoulder. "Does the Captain have someone like that?"

Before Lamorak can get an answer, one of the castle’s servants and one of Aglovale’s regents barges into the kitchen with Percival and Djeeta trailing behind them.

“Your Highness!” The tall draph’s voice bellows throughout the kitchen, his presence almost as intimidating as the lord he faithfully served. “You still have a mountain of papers to read and sign by the end of this week! You do not have time for this folly!”

Aglovale puts down the utensils and stands up to be walked back to his office without struggle; he knew which battles were worth fighting for and this one just wasn’t one of them. Aglovale sighs and turns to Lyria with a smile.

“I look forward to today’s afternoon snack.” Lyria nods as Aglovale’s regent guides him out of the kitchen.

“Lord Lamorak I see you’re still the same troublemaker you were when you were a youngin'.” A castle maid stands with her hands on her hips and exasperation written all over her face. “Come along now, you’ll be helping me with chores as your punishment.” She pulls him by the ear, not giving him the chance to try and slip away in the midst of the chaos. “Honestly, you’d think you would grow out of wasting your older brother’s time like this.”

As Lamorak is dragged out of the kitchen, he doesn’t fail to see the smirk on his younger brother’s face.

* * * * * *

“The cake tastes so yummy!” Lyria rests her hand against her cheek, sighing dreamily. Sitting in the tea room of the castle, Aglovale and guests are enjoying the fruits of their labor. To pair with the delicious cake, Aglovale has personally prepared a tart tea from his collection of tea leaves gathered from his trips to various islands.

“Food tastes better when ya make it yourself after all!” Vyrn says before taking another bite out of his cake.

“You’re both right,” Lamorak pauses to throw a pout towards his younger brother sitting across from him. “It would’ve been nice to help out.” Percvial pays him no mind as he sips his tea unbothered. Seated to the right of him is Djeeta who is busy wiping the excess cream off of the corner of Lyria's mouth.

"I knew Percival could cook, but I didn't know he also knew how to bake!" Lyria says once Djeeta is done wiping her face.

"Yeah, but Djeeta here was the one holding down the fort in the kitchen back there." Vyrn puffs his small dragon chest out with pride. "You should've seen the apple pies she could bake back home. If there was a prize for 'Granny's Bestest Kitchen Helper', my buddy here would win it hands down!"

"Oh so that's why the kitchen didn't burn down." Lamorak says off-handedly. Aglovale sneakily digs the heel of his foot into Lamorak's, earning a hushed yelp from the younger of the two.

"Captain you can bake?" Aglovale asks, teacup raised halfway to his mouth while ignoring Lamorak's last statement.

"Not really, like Vyrn said I was just a kitchen helper at most." says a slightly flustered Djeeta waving her hands in front of her. "But considering all Vyrn ate was the apple pies I helped make, I'd say those are the ones I have the most confidence in."

"Is that so? I never knew you were so talented in making apple pies," Percival says with a smile. Hearing stories from his vassal's life back on Zinkenstill unprompted like this, and not under the pretense of swapping stories like when they would together during tea, was rare and a personal treat for him. So different from his own childhood, he craved to know more about islands like hers, ruled not by kings but the clusters of people living there. "Perhaps the next time you're on dessert duty I'll put in a suggestion for apple pie."

"Me too, I wanna try your apple pies!" Lyria pipes up, finishing the last bit of her cake.

Djeeta smiles at the wishes of her friends to taste her apple pies. "Okay, when you eat it I hope you all like it."

"That sounds nice, I wish I could try it too." Lamorak, jumping in with his comment, sighs dramatically. By the time that would happen they'd off on their adventure again and he wouldn't be able to try it.

"Don't be so selfish." scolded Aglovale, frowning into his cup.

"Yes sir." Lamorak replied somewhat sarcastically.

Before the conversation could shift to another topic, the knock on the door drew everyone's attention. Opening the door, the draph regent from earlier enters the room and gives Aglovale a curt bow.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but the allotted time for your break has come to an end."

Internally sighing to himself, Aglovale sets his cup down and stands up, giving his guests a smile. "It seems I must return to my paperwork."

"Do you really have to go?" Lyria asks, guilt evident on her face. "You didn't have much of a break serving us tea and all…" Placing the role of host on his shoulders, he was the one who insisted on serving Percival and company.

"I thoroughly enjoyed our time together." Aglovale gives her a gentle smile, walking over to her to and patting her on the head. Seeing her like this reminded him of the times when Percival would beg for more time together before he and Lamorak would head off to their respective lessons; it had been a while since memories like that visited him. "Lyria, Vyrn, Captain I thank you for your company and the wonderful cake you made, it was truly a delight."

"Besides we'll see each other at lunch." Lamorak pipes up, mediating just like he did back then. A simple reminder they'd see each other again soon never failed to placate a crying Percival, hopefully it'd work on Lyria.

"Very good Lord Lamorak!" The sound of clapping caught everyone's attention, their heads turning towards the doorway. Behind the burly regent was the servant from earlier. "If only this maturity extended to other parts of your life, you'd be an upstanding young man like Your Highness."

Lamorak suppressed a shiver, sensing his punishment promised earlier coming back to claim him.

"The gardener has returned from his shopping trip into town and is ready to have you lend him a helping hand, Lord Lamorak."

Lamorak gave her a forced smile. "Okay let me just say goodbye to my friends."

"Very well, the gardener is in the usual place," the servant gives a slight curtsy and begins to head back to her own duties before stopping and turning back with a warning. "Oh, and I will be checking up on you to make sure you aren't slacking off."

"No need to!" Lamorak laughs nervously. That's exactly what his plan was.

"No I think that's a wonderful idea." Aglovale turns to give Lamorak a sickeningly sweet smile. "We all must take our punishments in stride." And with that Aglovale left with his regent by his side, followed shortly by the servant.

Lamorak sunk into the sofa. He wasn't looking forward to tending the garden this time of year, it was just starting to get hotter. Suddenly hit with an idea, he sits up and turns towards Lyria. "Hey Lyria, would you and Vyrn like to see the garden with me?"

"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong but it just sounds like you want us to make your work easier buddy." Vyrn says, wary of his intentions.

"It's really pretty this time of year and we usually get Carbuncles roaming the grounds," Lamorak ignores the true accusation hurled at him and continues. "They're really docile with the flowers around so you can get up close to them and some even let you pet them."

"Don't listen to him Lyria! He's just trying to rope us into during his work!" The tiny dragon flies to get in-between Lamorak and Lyria, trying in vain to somehow protect her physically from his words.

But it's too late, the curiosity on Lyria's face is obvious as to what her answer is. Despite having interacted with hundreds of primal beasts on their journey, the primal beasts inside her are excited at the idea of frolicking with new friends to make.

"That sounds like a lot of fun!" admits Lyria.

"Lamorak," Percival's voice breaks up the conversation, causing heads to turn in his direction. "Don't drag my vassals into your mess."

"Sir Burnsalot…!" Vyrn's eyes sparkle, on the brink of exaggerated tears. Vryn silently took back every rude thing he's ever thought about the guy, what a stand-up guy looking out for the little people—

"Fine, I'll just tell the Captain about the time you wanted to be Strawberry—."

"Very well," Without missing a beat, Percival dismisses them. "Lyria, Vryn you two go ahead. The Captain and I will stay behind and clean up."

When Vyrn got his powers back he was gonna teach Percival a lesson.

"You're lucky I suck at magic Sir Burnsalot or your nickname would be Sir _Burned_ alot!"

"Don't be silly!" Lamorak laughs as he grabs Vyrn and heads towards the door, Lyria trailing behind him and laughing awkwardly. "Lizards can't breathe fire!"

"I ain't no lizard!" Vyrns muffled voice yelled from behind the closed door.

* * * * * *

"I apologise about my brother Lamorak." Percival begins the task of picking up the tea cups and saucers while Djeeta picks up the plates and forks, both placing them on the tea cart left behind. "He's a good person despite how selfish he acts."

"Don't worry about it," Djeeta places a piece of tableware onto the cart. "Lamorak is a lot different from you or Aglovale, but he's still your brother."

"Besides," Djeeta turns towards Percival, smiling. "I think that's just his way of showing he cares, as odd as it may be."

Djeeta turns back to her task at hand before continuing. "But I wouldn't mind hearing stories from him about your childhood. It's one thing to hear it from your perspective, it's another to hear it from someone else."

She reaches for the last fork sitting on the coffee table, making it halfway to the tea cart before dropping it.

"Whoops." Djeeta bends down to pick the tableware up. As she bends over, the garnet necklace dangles and the glint it reflects from the afternoon sun catches Percival's attention.

"You're still wearing it." He says aloud. He assumed that she would have taken it off when they parted to clean themselves up after baking the cake. Only able to utter that simple sentence, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about.

"Huh?" Standing up straight, Djeeta follows his line of vision to the piece of jewelry. Flustered, her free hand fumbles with the gem weighing the necklace down "Oh, um, I must've forgotten to take it off, sorry about that." She gives an embarrassed laugh and reaches the back of her neck to disassemble the clasp.

"It's okay," Percival's hand stops her, expression not one of anger like she expected. After all Percival didn't seem like the type to wear any kind of jewelry, he rarely even wore the ring that symbolized the brotherhood of the once renowned Order of the Black Knights, so this necklace must be something special if he had chosen to wear it. "Keep it."

Djeeta blinked, unsure if she heard him right.

"Keep it," He repeated, this time sure that she heard him correctly by the way her eyes widened. "You look nice in red."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for making it this far! this took a while to write since I would reread it and kept wanting to change certain things and add more to flesh it out. I really enjoy this pairing so I really wanted my first gbf fic to be for them, I hope I did them justice!
> 
> In the meantime, I'll be working on a separate sequel of sorts for this one, again thank you for listening to me my rambling here at the end and my fic! <3


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